


Second Sunday in May

by Dee_Laundry



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Gen, Mother's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-10
Updated: 2009-05-10
Packaged: 2017-10-15 11:05:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dee_Laundry/pseuds/Dee_Laundry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilson wants to commemorate Mother’s Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Sunday in May

**Author's Note:**

  * For [usomitai (bellaboo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellaboo/gifts).



> This takes place _before_ episode 5-23. Spoilers through episode 5-18.

Wilson smiled at the arrangement sitting front and center on his desk. He’d spent half an hour with the florist to make sure it was right, but the time had been worth it. A beautiful reusable ceramic dish held an invisible vase out of which bloomed gorgeous pink mini roses and baby’s breath. Tucked around the vase were the essentials for a do-it-yourself evening of relaxation: bath cream, loofah, lotion, gourmet chocolates, tea.

“Are you getting Bowers for the SRS, or you just going to do it yourself with a set of hedge clippers?”

House had slipped in from the balcony; Wilson peered behind him to make sure he hadn’t been followed, and then asked, “What?”

Nodding toward the flowers, House mimed using a pair of scissors at the crotch of his jeans. “You know, snip snip, hello yeast infections, goodbye peeing standing up.”

“Pleasant.” Wilson pulled the flower arrangement toward himself to get it out of the way of any errant arms or canes that might fling near his desk. “This is for Cuddy. It’s her first Mother’s Day, and obviously Rachel can’t go shopping, so I wanted to get Lisa something special.”

“ _Lisa_ ,” House scoffed.

“Yes, Lisa,” Wilson replied in exasperation. “Lisa the person, not Cuddy the boss. It’s a big day for her, and I wanted to get her something to celebrate it.” He smiled at the thought, and then felt his happiness pale a bit as he remembered how it wasn’t going to go exactly to plan. “I was supposed to give this to her at lunch, but she had to cancel, and now I’m going to be in surgery all afternoon.”

House’s cheeks bugged in and out a few times, the way they tended to do when he was considering. “I’ll take it down for you,” he said.

“No!” Wilson pulled the arrangement even closer, curling an arm around it protectively. “You’ll… rip off the buds, or put a condom in the middle or something.”

Hands spreading wide, House said with overtly false innocence, “What do you take me for?”

“I take you for _you_ ,” Wilson said with a glare. This was a special treat for Cuddy’s special day. Let House mess up his _own_ gift.

House rolled his eyes, and then pounded on the wall that separated Wilson’s office from the conference room. “Taub!”

Wilson barely had time to sort through his confusion before Taub appeared at the door.

“You bellowed?”

“Hm,” House said, eyes trained on Taub. “Wilson, has the Dow climbed out of the Great Depression Part Two gutter yet?”

Wilson shook his head and went with it. “Well, analysts say –”

“Rhetorical question.” House snatched the flower arrangement off Wilson’s desk and shoved it in Taub’s direction. “The guy who still needs to kiss my ass to keep his wife in 700-count sheets and bread makers will take these down to Cuddy.”

Sighing, Taub took the arrangement. “My pleasure,” he said in an absolute monotone.

Now Wilson felt guilty. Errands not related to patients weren’t in the job description for fellows, no matter what House might think. “You don’t have to,” he told Taub as apologetically as possible.

Taub’s face softened into what might have been a genuine smile. “No, really, it’s OK. We don’t have a patient now, and I don’t mind.”

Wilson waited until Taub was out of earshot before turning back to House. “What am I going to owe you for this?” he asked, because House – while perfectly capable of the selfless grand gesture, no matter what the man claimed – didn’t do small favors without compensation.

“Think nothing of it,” House said with an air of _noblesse oblige_. “It’s what friends do for friends.”

Wilson waited.

House nodded and looked down at the carpet. “On a completely different subject, my mother…”

Happily, Wilson already had this covered. He’d realized while shopping for his own mother that it would be Mrs. House’s first Mother’s Day alone. “She’s been sent two dozen roses and a gift certificate to her hairdresser.”

“Hairdresser?” House’s skepticism almost brought another smile to Wilson’s lips but he suppressed it and nodded instead.

“Who also offers various spa services. She’ll enjoy it; trust me.”

It was going to be a great Mother’s Day for everyone.

* * *

The weekend passed quickly. Wilson thought about going to visit Lisa and see how she was doing, but she had mentioned having some friends who were also mothers over for lunch, so he didn’t want to be a bother. Mother and baby needed their time together, anyway.

He walked into the hospital on Monday morning with a smile, looking forward to seeing how Cuddy liked her present. When he didn’t see her for the entire morning, it was a little disappointing, but obviously she was busy, as was he. Not enough hours in the day sometimes.

He was making notes on a file at the reception desk when he heard Cuddy call out, “Wilson?” Good. He turned to her with a smile.

“Oh, good,” she echoed his thought, one hand going to stroke his bicep. “I’ve been looking for you.”

She looked wonderful, with a sense of private pleasure underlying her all-business expression. Wilson loved it when a present was well appreciated, when he’d picked exactly the right thing. “Yes?”

“Can you do a couple hours in the Clinic this afternoon? I’m down a doctor.”

“Oh.” Not what he had expected her to open with, but OK. “I’m pretty sure my schedule’s open for it.”

“It is.” Cuddy nodded and her hand fell from his arm. “I checked with your assistant.” To his surprise, she walked away without another word. Huh.

She did stop a few steps and look back. “And, Wilson, thanks,” she called, before disappearing through the Clinic doors.

It wasn’t as effusive a thank-you as he had expected, but… Giving was its own reward, right? He’d wanted to make Cuddy feel happy, and it looked like she was. Mission accomplished. Giving was its own reward.

He wasn’t smiling when he checked in for his Clinic shift.

* * *

He wasn’t smiling two hours later, either. Three virulent STDs, two different hypochondriacs who wouldn’t stop talking until they’d shared their decades-long medical histories, and an entire preschool hit with diarrhea. Ugh.

Finding House lounging at the nurses’ desk looking fresh as a daisy (for House) was the irritant icing on the crap cake his afternoon had become.

“Want to volunteer to help?” Wilson asked as he tried to wipe snot off his sleeve.

“Noooooo.” House’s violent head shake threatened to dump him off the chair. “Cuddy spontaneously giving me time off Clinic is a gift horse into whose mouth I will in no way be looking.”

 _Wait a minute_. Wilson felt his jaw clenching. “Cuddy did what?”

“Gave me the afternoon off Clinic.”

“You were supposed to work this shift?” Clench, clench, clench.

House grinned. “Yep. And then this morning, for no reason, she tells me I don’t have to. Don’t have to make up the time, either. I’m thinking it’s because I’m just generally awesome.”

As the door to Cuddy’s office pushed open, and the woman herself began to emerge, House stood. “And now she’s taking me out for pie.”

Adjusting her purse on her shoulder, Cuddy smiled at House. It was a shy, small smile and yet still beaming, happiness simply pouring off her face. “Mickey’s Diner makes peach-rhubarb fresh on Mondays, right?”

“With crunchy macaroon topping,” Wilson sighed.

“Wilson’s favorite,” House noted on his way to the door, with Cuddy right behind him.

* * *

The Clinic was closed and Wilson was finishing up the last of the charting when House and Cuddy came back. A Styrofoam container plopped onto the middle of Kimmy Meester’s test results.

“ _Et voila_ ,” said House as he dropped into the chair next to Wilson’s.

Cuddy leaned on the counter and smiled down at them. “House insisted I buy you a piece of your favorite pie.”

It looked wonderful, and a plastic fork was even included in the container. Wilson broke off a little piece of the heavenly crust.

“Least you could do,” House noted, “after Wilson sprung for that huge smarmy bucket of Congratulations for Not Killing Your Kid Yet crap.”

“Bucket of crap?” Cuddy looked honestly confused. “You mean the thoughtful, beautiful arrangement of flowers and at-home spa supplies?”

House shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I didn’t pay much attention when Wilson showed it to me.”

Straightening, Cuddy glared at House. “I thought _you_ gave me that!”

Wilson might as well have not even been there for the attention they were paying him. It was kind of intriguing, and he brought a bite of pie to his lips as he watched.

“Me?” House asked disbelievingly. “I hope the Unicorn King is a benevolent ruler in that fantasy world you live in.”

Cuddy’s face had twisted in exasperation. “Taub gave them to my assistant, saying they were from my favorite department head.”

“So you ignored the card that said, ‘Smooches, Jimmy’?”

The peaches were especially fresh in the pie that day, which was probably why Wilson had a small spring of contentment starting to bubble inside him.

“There was no card!” Cuddy insisted.

Had he really forgotten a card? Wilson thought back over the visit to the florist: they’d picked the container first, and then the flowers, and then… yes, he’d forgotten the card entirely. No wonder Cuddy had been confused.

After huffing a grunt of dissatisfaction House’s way (which was met by a stuck-out tongue), Cuddy turned to Wilson. “James, I’m sorry I didn’t realize the gift was from you. It really brightened my weekend that a friend would do something so _thoughtful_ and _considerate_ –” In Wilson’s peripheral vision, he caught House rolling his eyes. “So thank you.”

“You’re welcome; it was my pleasure,” Wilson said, and dug into the pie again, fending off a sneak incursion by House.

It really was the perfect amount of sweet.


End file.
